The Fellowship Broken
by Verite
Summary: The lives of Frodo, Sam, Merry & Pippin change with a single choice.


**The Fellowship Broken**

A retelling of the conclusion of Tolkien's epic: The Lord of the Rings.

Frodo had chosen the One Ring. He had turned away from that outreach of rock within Mount Doom, broken the Ring from the chain which had for so long, hung about his neck, and slipped it onto his finger with a possessed smile. It would be the last anyone would see of him.

Sam could only cry. Tears streaked down his dirty and bruised face as he saw the footprints, all that could be indicative of Frodo's presence, pass him by in the ash and dust. When at last, he struggled to his feet, he had no idea how much time had elapsed. The fires below still raged, still hungry for the return of their corruptive creation, and lit Sam's face with violent reds and oranges. Likewise the skies behind still remained black with smoke and the corporeal presence of evil. Between the two, there was no way of telling day between night.

Now Sam would have to face that evil alone, would have to make the trek back home to the grassy glens and comforts of the Shire, heavy with the despondence of his failure to save his friend. Rosie. Rosie still would be there, with her smile and curly ribboned hair. He would see her again and marry her, and try to put behind him the dark and the pain.

In another part of Middle Earth, headed for the same residential destination, Merry and Pippin found their usual banter strained. Until the last battle, Pippin had always been the more cheery of the two, if that much of a distinction could be made. But the horrors of war, the black Orc blood on his Gondor blade, the near death of Faramir at the hands of his insane father, and the overwhelming fear that the very friend who rode beside him might be a victim of the same horrible battle, had darkened the poor Hobbit's spirit profoundly.

Merry tried to fill the silence with talk of his plans once they finally returned to the Shire. He would settle down, raise another generation of Brandybucks, and take up again, the laissez faire way of life, so traditional of Hobbits. But he couldn't help but notice that the more he babbled away about the life they were returning to, the more distant his lifelong friend appeared. Merry knew Pippin had experienced much worse, equally he knew that such experiences were difficult to relate, and even more so, if not impossible, to forget.

Pippin was painfully aware of his friend's desire to comfort and alleviate some of those memories, and also knew the futility of such desires. So they rode on, each one wanting to say so much, but afraid to.

It had taken Sam a lifetime it seemed to reach the borders of Hobbiton. And once he had scrubbed away the grime and sweat, bandaged up the visible wounds, he finally sat down at his old seat, at his old table, in the old pub he had missed so dearly. Rosie was there, handing out tankards to the same Hobbits that frequented this place. As she turned his way, he smiled his awkward and endearing smile, waiting for the shy one she would give back. But she looked away, and her normally cheery face fell ever so slightly. Then Sam felt completely lost. No Frodo, no Rosie. Not even Merry and Pippin to distract him with their wild antics. He left the bar with a heavy weight on his heart. Where did he belong? Where was a place he could call home? Would he come back to his father's hole, a failure, a disappointment? Would he even dare to enter Bag End, knowing of the fates its previous inhabitants came to? Where could he go?

Crossing the old bridge into Hobbiton, Merry hoped for some lifting of Pippin's spirits, a smile maybe, or a crack at how the place hadn't changed against all the changes in the unseen reaches of Middle Earth. But Pippin only halted his pony, gave Merry a morose nod, and rode in another direction, leaving Merry with more questions, and even more unsaid between the two friends, once as close as brothers.

Pippin had no destination in mind, only the need to be alone, away from Merry's worried glances. For as well meaning as he knew Merry to be, the more his unvoiced concern hurt. In the dark, he almost ran across another Hobbit. The pony whinnied and jumped a little, and Pippin heard the startled Hobbit shout "Hey! Mind where you're stepping!"

"Sam?" Pippin queried.

"Pippin?" replied the shadowed Hobbit.

"Sam!" Pippin leapt off the pony and rushed to see his old friend. But when he made out Sam's face in the twilight, he recognized that haunted look of a Hobbit who's seen more than any Hobbit was meant to. It was the same that haunted himself.

Sam made the same realization. And for the first time, felt a twinge of hope that he would not have to carry the same burden of the past silent and alone. Pippin knew the same griefs, and the same inability to put those into words.

The two embraced, and side by side, walked into the night to find a new beginning and forge a new friendship.


End file.
